


The Higher Power of Fernando Torres

by edenhazardsbutt



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:39:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenhazardsbutt/pseuds/edenhazardsbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Fernando wants is to reinvent himself, and then he meets Sergio Ramos: slightly eccentric, and completely insane.<br/>AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Salton Plant, CA. POP 47.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still pretty new to this, so I hope you like it. I tried, and I guess I should say this is probably going to be a part of a series. Maybe, depending.

 Fernando thinks that he does not like the sun. He thinks that it is far too bright for his liking. He thinks the sun is just mocking him. He thinks the sun is an asshole. Fernando thinks that it should be dark and raining, maybe a thunderstorm, something to match his mood at the moment; but the further they get, the brighter the sky gets. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against the window, the glass feels cool against his skin, and he sighs loudly.

 

 “Stop doing that, it’s getting annoying.” His mother reprimands him; she doesn't bother trying to hide her irritation. He sighs again, if just to spite her.

 

“You’d think that you’d be more excited about this, Fernando. I mean you always said how much you hated that school.” His mother continues.

 

“Yeah, the school,” He interrupts her, not wanting to listen to the absolute bullshit reasons she’ll begin spouting out yet again. “I hated the school. Not our house, not my friends…” Fernando trails off, the word ‘friends’ leaves a somewhat acrid taste in his mouth.

 

Fernando turns his head back to look out the window at the sky. He does not feel like talking to his mother anymore; this time he hears her sigh. His mother had liked their old house, and her job, and her friends. Fernando figures that if her relationship hadn't gone to utter shit, then maybe they would have stayed there, but as it so happens every time his mother got out of a bad relationship, they would pack up and move to the next town. And his mother was rather prone to getting into and falling out of bad relationships.

 

“Fernando, a new start will be good for us. Especially for you…” His mother looks at him from the rear-view mirror.

 

“Don’t. Just don’t.” He interrupts her sharply, feeling the sudden urge to scratch at his wrists.

 

It seems that is the end of their conversation, and Fernando and his mother spend the rest of the trip in silence; that is until they pass a sign which reads: ‘Welcome to Salton Plant, CA. POP 47’.

 

Fernando’s head starts spinning. When his mother told him a smaller town, he hadn't thought it meant literally a village. Literally a village in the middle of the desert; a desert the color of Fernando’s hair, and skin, and freckles, and he can’t help but wonder if his mother has gone officially insane.

 

It seems that his mother had been expecting an outburst, because she does not even flinch when Fernando begins to shout.

 

“Are you actually crazy? Are you on drugs or something, because what the actual fuck is this? Do you seriously want to ruin my life, because I’m actually depressed looking at this, like how the fuck can a desert be blonde?”

 

And while Fernando is shouting, he can’t help but feel that his cheeks are moist, and it feels foreign because his vision is blurred and he can see tiny droplets clinging to his lashes. He takes a raggedy breath and wipes a hand across his eyes.

 

Fernando’s mother is silent, and he can’t help but think that once again she is dismissing his feelings. He turns back to the window, and glares at the blonde desert and few trailers they pass by.

 

“You’ll be going to the boys’ school in the city near here.” She finally says, breaking the thick silence.

 

“I figured, since it would be a bit hard to run a school with five kids.” He bites back caustically.

 

His mother pulls a face, and then she takes a deep breath. “Look,” she says. “One year, that’s all I’m asking. One year here, and then we can leave, but I figure it would be good here. Away from all the distractions.”

 

Fernando is smart enough to read between the lines, and somehow he can respect his mother for her reasons. Although, that doesn't mean he’s altogether too happy with those reasons.

 

They pull off of the dusty road and onto desert sand, approaching a sandy, white fence marking off a square area, in which three connected trailers stand; tires missing and ends weighed down by large, concrete blocks. There is no grass, only the blonde sand which Fernando associates with the rest of this place.

 

It seems the man who is renting out the trailer home to Fernando and his mother had been waiting for them, because he steps out of a rusty pickup truck and begins walking towards their car. Fernando’s mother rolls down the window and they exchange a few words, before she steps out of the car and walks with the man toward the trailer. Fernando stays inside the car.

 

Later, the man and Fernando’s mother walk out; the man shakes his mother’s hand and heads off to his truck holding a stack of papers. And Fernando’s mother walks toward the car in which Fernando sits sulking.

 

“It’s ours’ now.” She grins, dangling a pair of keys in front him. His mother looks so happy, that Fernando can’t help but crack a smile. He decides that as he gets out of the car, that maybe he’ll give this blonde sand, desert village a try.

 

“If they call me trailer trash at school, I’m going to hit them.” He says. His mother only shakes her head.


	2. The Bus Stop in the Middle of Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fernando's mother breaks a promise and he meets Sergio and Sara.

The next morning, Fernando’s mom wakes him up at five, telling him the bus for school leaves in an hour.

 

He lies in bed for a few more minutes listening to the unnecessarily loud hum of the air conditioner, and staring up at the ceiling. Even in the dark, Fernando can see spots where the paint seems to be peeling. Whoever had lived here before must've had a penchant for covering every available surface with posters, because Fernando can see tape markings and lines where the paint color is a bit uneven. He doesn't mind though; Fernando likes the feeling that this room has been lived in, and that someone probably loved it enough. Fernando continues to stare up at the ceiling, his thoughts straying, and wondering what _he’s_ doing right now; most likely sleeping. Fernando wonders if _he_ dreams about him.

 

It occurs to him, eventually, that he should probably get up.

 

 As Fernando sits up, however, it becomes very apparent to him that the air conditioner is absolutely useless. His tee shirt is damp and stuck to his back with perspiration, and he feels very hot and stuffy.

 

Fernando makes his way to the shower, not bothering to let the water warm up before stepping in. The icy cold water slides through his hair, into his face, and down his back; he can feel his muscles tensing up and his skin prickling from the frosty assault. And Fernando can’t help but feel slightly alive, because the cold water seems to be hyper-stimulating his every sense like no drug possibly can.

 

Fernando shuts off the water and steps out, toweling himself dry and quickly brushing his teeth, before pulling on some clean clothing.

 

When he emerges into the kitchen trailer he sees his mother having a whispered discussion with someone on the phone; smiling and trying not to laugh.

 

Fernando freezes for a moment because he has seen this exact same scene happen so many times before, that at this point it’s not even surprising. But he can’t help but feel his heart drop a little into his stomach _because she promised this time._

 

Fernando clears his throat, and his mother notices him and attempts to hide the phone.

 

“Who was that?” He asks in a dull voice, because his mother really sucks at trying to not be obvious.

 

“Just a friend.” She mumbles, flashing Fernando a smile.

 

“I’m sure,” he replies scathingly. “What happened to no distractions?”

 

Fernando’s mother doesn’t even bother trying to defend herself. He can see tears starting to form in her eyes, but he can’t bring himself to particularly care.

 

“Just tell him to take a shower at his own place, because there’s not exactly enough hot water to go around.” Fernando shakes his head angrily as he walks out the door.

 

“The bus stop is at the stop sign up the road.” Fernando’s mother calls out to him in a small voice.

 

He doesn't respond.

 

All he thinks about is that fact that this is another promise his mother has broken, and this is another place they’ll be moving from at a moment’s notice.

 

As he approaches the stop sign, Fernando sees a boy sitting on the ground legs crossed and staring up at the purpling sky; a large pair of tacky, green sunglasses resting on his head.

 

As Fernando moves closer, he is able to get a proper look at the boy. He has bleached blonde hair, curling past the bottoms of his ears; the color looks rather odd with caramel colored skin, but it seems to fit him. He has defined cheekbones and his nose is slightly crooked, like he had once broken it. Even sitting down, the boy seems tall. He has a lean body and strong muscled arms, which Fernando can see peeking out from beneath his tee shirt.

 

The boy finally looks at him and Fernando quickly averts his gaze, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

 

“So,” the boy draws out the word, “are you the guy that moved into Iker’s old trailer?” His eyes are a deep chocolate brown that are sparkling with an untold depth. And Fernando can’t help but feel they could swallow him whole, and he would never be found.

 

Fernando coughs, unsure of who Iker is, but assuming he’s probably the poster guy.

 

“I guess.” He mumbles, avoiding the boy’s eyes. The boy raises an eyebrow.

 

The boy leans back to look up at Fernando, his sunglasses falling to cover his eyes. “Well, I’m Sergio. I live on the other side of the road.” He grins at Fernando, tongue flicking over his lips. “You should come over some time.” Fernando can’t help but notice the innuendo laced between his words.

 

Fernando opens his mouth to speak, feeling a flush creep up his neck, when he is interrupted by a slightly irritated female voice.

 

“And who the fuck are you?”

 

Fernando turns around to see a girl with long, dark hair and a scowl, looking up at him; her arms crossed over her very pregnant stomach, and foot tapping impatiently.

 

Sergio stands up grinning. “Ah, Sara. Always in a good mood, I see. How’s baby Sergio?”

 

The girl, Sara, turns a poisonous glare towards Sergio, and Fernando can’t help but think _if looks could kill._

 

“Ramos, if you think I’m ever going to name my child after you, then you must seriously delusional.” She rolls her eyes.

 

“But anyway,” Sara glances back at Fernando. “Who are you?”

 

“Fernando,” he answers awkwardly. “I moved here…” He trails off.

 

“Oh.” A series of emotions flash across her face.

 

“Casillas’ old trailer then?” Sara asks quietly, her hands dropping to her belly. She looks somewhat subdued.

 

Fernando starts to feel vaguely uncomfortable, because it becomes very obvious to him who the father of Sara’s baby is; and she’s trying hard so hard not to look sad. And then he can’t help but think that this Iker Casillas sounds like an asshole.

 

Sergio claps his hands together, flashing a wide smile with teeth, trying the kill the solemn mood. “Well, the bus is here.”

 

And true to Sergio’s word, Fernando sees a yellow school bus quickly approaching, a cloud of dust trailing behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thank you to whoever read this, because I honestly didn't think so many people would enjoy it!  
> 2\. Also Happy Christmas, I tried to get this chapter out as close as possible. Sort of a present (:


End file.
